Dream
by Zayrastriel
Summary: "I don't want to go." In which dreams are more real than reality.  Kurt/Blaine, character death  sort of , angsty fluff or fluffy angst.


**AN: **This is sort of strange, and I have little to say about it. It's sort of procrastination from my longer fic (which everyone should totes check out, if only to tell me just how amazing (mediocre) it is.)

...xD

I don't own Glee, as is evident because there are plot points that don't revolve around Blaine or Kurt.

Enjoy!

(Also, everyone should do NaNoWriMo!)

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><p>"<em>I don't want to, Rachel!"<em>

_And so, as Finn held Kurt down, Rachel forced the pills into his mouth, holding his mouth shut till, finally, fight gone out of him, he swallowed._

It's dark when Kurt wakes into his dream, and yet he can see perfectly. Slowly, he uncurls from the tight foetal position that, unless he's driven to exhaustion, has become his normal sleeping position (because the pain of his curved spine almost distracts from the constant agony in his chest.)

He pushes himself to his feet, feeling soft grass under his fingertips. Behind him, there's a forest, but it's forwards that he looks; to a beach with sand that is whiter than his skin, to stars glimmering on the horizon of an endlessly vast ocean, waves slow and gentle.

_Blaine took him to dinner for their ten month anniversary, and afterwards they went to the beach. Despite the time, the air was still warm and the water deliciously cooling against his skin as Blaine, laughing at Kurt's yelps and shrieks, splashed him till he finally gave in and joined Blaine._

_He could taste the sea-salt on Blaine's lips as they kissed._

He's halfway into the water, the salt stinging the scars on his leg and the lacerations on his wrists and whipping up to get into his eyes, before he remembers that this won't kill him; that even if he wades out till the wave carry him into dark oblivion, he'll merely wake into reality.

_No._

The moisture vanishes from Kurt's skin almost as soon as he drags himself from the water, heading towards the forest. It's not the ominous, dense forest of Ohio, but more a scene from a Disney movie.

_Disney movies. Blaine would never let them go a week without watching _something _Disney. Kurt clung to his dignity for as long as possible, but in the end he didn't even notice, till Blaine turned to him with something like wonder on his face, that he was singing along to 'I'll Make a Man Out of You', stopping only to laugh._

_He wouldn't have thought that was a turn-on, but apparently Blaine disagreed._

It's silent, apart from the soft chirping of birds, but a silent soundtrack spurs Kurt on, and he starts to run, anticipation building in his chest. This isn't a normal dream, he thinks, and he can't but _hope _that he's right.

Finally, accompanied by the swelling of the not-there orchestra, Kurt pushes through the foliage into a clearing…

…and there's no one there.

_Kurt waited for an hour at Breadstix before he finally accepted that Blaine wasn't coming. He should have expected it – but how could he have? He had never thought Blaine, the sometimes-annoyingly perfect gentleman, would have let a minor (possibly major) argument (possibly fight) get in the way of _them.

_As he was about to open the car door, he realised that his iPhone was on silent; reaching for it, heart beating terrifyingly fast in the hope that maybe Blaine had an actual explanation for this, he sighed in exasperation. Two missed calls – one from Finn, one from Wes (since when did _Wes _call him?) – and a text from Blaine that simply read '_Love_.'_

_Disheartened, he debated for a moment between who to call first, finally settling on Wes because, honestly, curiosity beat yet _another _probable conversation with Finn about how to use the microwave…_

_He hung up by throwing his phone to the ground behind his car. When he reversed out of the parking lot, the sound of the screen cracking and shattering somehow managed to penetrate the glass of his window. _

_Kurt drove for another hour, around Lima, going nowhere, till finally something shattered inside of him. He barely managed to pull over before he opened the door, vomiting and coughing and shaking and convulsing as tears soaked his cheeks and shirt._

By now, he doesn't know where he's going. He'd think he was lost, but he doesn't know what _lost _means here. Mostly, he's terrified he'll wake up soon; that the sleeping pills that Rachel literally forced down his throat will wear off before he finds what he _needs _to.

Kurt emerges from the forest and blinks. The moon shines down over gently rolling hills, over an apple tree and…

…Blaine turns as Kurt approaches, leaving the forest behind him. The olive-skinned boy stands at the riverbanks, moonlight turning the water into a quicksilver that shifts and changes.

_You're here_, Blaine sighs, his smile revealing pearly-white teeth. Kurt almost backs away; but then, as though the breeze is pushing him, he stumbles into the other boy's chest.

For a moment, he feels arms wrap around him, supporting his weight; but then Blaine pushes him away quickly, shaking his head gently.

_No touching, sweetheart_, Blaine tells him gently. _You know the rules_.

Half a minute ago, Kurt wouldn't have understood; but now the knowledge glimmers in his mind.

"No touching," Kurt echoes numbly. He wants to, though – wants to reach out, wants to see his fingers entwined with slightly darker, callused fingers, wants to feel the rough smoothness of Blaine's palm and know that he's alive _somewhere _(even if that _somewhere _will die as soon as Kurt is dragged screaming into the waking world.

Blaine moves to sit beneath the apple tree; he beckons to Kurt, who slowly moves towards the smiling boy to sit, eyes closed, with his back against the coarse, sturdy wood.

For a long time, they sit in silence. Kurt doesn't dare open his eyes for what feels like hours, but he can't resist the opportunity to re-memorise the details of a face that, terrifyingly, is slowly starting to blur in Kurt's memory. As he turns his head, he's startled to see Blaine already looking at him, hazel-brown eyes soft with affection.

They stay like that, till Blaine sighs.

_You'll have to go back soon_, he whispers into Kurt's ear, but the words aren't _spoken_. They aren't carried by sound waves, but come instead on the breeze, caressing Kurt's skin lightly. It reminds him of Blaine's fingers, running lightly over Kurt's sensitive arms whenever they cuddled together on the couch. Kurt would always glare at Blaine, accuse him of teasing only to receive the full brunt of Blaine's wide-eyed innocence, as the touches moved towards his collarbone, up his neck, to his lips…

Kurt shakes his head, desperately trying to deny the truth in the winds; but he can feel it, feel himself starting to rise from deep slumber as the medication slowly leaves his veins.

"I don't want to go," Kurt half-whispers, half-sobs in reply, aching to just lean his head on Blaine's muscled but oddly-comfortable shoulder. _I don't want to leave you_.

He can't go back to the pity, to the whispers behind his back as teachers try vainly to engage his interest in subjects he used to adore. He can't go back to the _emptiness_.

Blaine doesn't say anything in response, looking away instead.

Kurt can feel life starting to wrap around him again and he starts to cry weakly as he curls into himself, tears rolling down his face; desperate to reach out and _touch _Blaine.

_Then don't_.

"…Huh?" Kurt stammers, lifting his head and looking back over at Blaine so quickly he almost gets whiplash. "I can't…I…is it possible…can I…"

He trails off, overwhelmed by the foreignness of _real _emotion, after so many months of nothing but endlessly painful numbness. It's strange, this confusion and hope and longing all wrapped in…

_Love._

_I can't_, Kurt opens his mouth to say, but what comes out is "how?" so softly that, were it reality, no one ever could have heard him.

Blaine looks shocked, as though he had assumed Kurt wouldn't even have considered it, as though he thinks Kurt has something to live for, now.

_Are you sure? _

He's not sure. He knows this isn't reality.

But it might be real, and as long as there's a chance, Kurt doesn't care.

"Yes…" he sighs, reaching up a hand to trace over the perfect, full lips of the boy he could never hope to stop loving. Blaine's eyes flutter closed for an instant, before opening again; and they've darkened, now, darkened with an intensity that, once upon a time, Kurt might have found frightening.

Not any more.

"A kiss," Blaine murmurs as he pulls Kurt into his lap, warm arms wrapping securely around Kurt's slender waist. Kurt barely registers the voice, no longer carried in the wind but suddenly warm and rich and _so so Blaine_.

His arms reach around Blaine's neck, as they stare into each other's eyes. Kurt can still feel the call of the world, cajoling and commanding.

But he ignores it, and as his boyfriend leans forward, Kurt moves to meet him.

_They cremated the body, like Kurt always said he wanted (because he stopped believing in God long ago). Finn couldn't bear to watch and Mercedes' eyes were too swollen for her to see. But as Rachel watched the smoke rise, she fancied she could see two figures form and entwine before the wind blew them into nothingness._

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><p>Can't figure out if this is happy or sad.<p>

Please do drop me a review and tell me what you think!

Love, Zayre


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